


1.5 US FL OZ

by keijisosamu (combustible)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Body Shots, Canon Compliant, Cock Warming (or attempt at it), Friends With Benefits, M/M, Morning Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, fwb to lovers, mild exhibitionism, side: skats & osak
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-12 04:41:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28879629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/combustible/pseuds/keijisosamu
Summary: 1.5 us fl oz = 44.36 mlthere is no standard size for a single shot in the u.s., the standard size is generally considered to be 1.25–1.5 us fl oz (37–44 ml).or, suna takes three showers on the same day.
Relationships: Komori Motoya/Suna Rintarou, Side: Kita Shinsuke/Konoha Akinori
Comments: 11
Kudos: 43





	1.5 US FL OZ

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elleskandal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elleskandal/gifts).



> So, this (vague gesture) happened.
> 
> HAPPY BIRTHDAY ELLE!!!!!  
> i am so sorry for the very late gift, but i still wish you all the best for this year, also i hope this little smutty interlude will spark joy in your life <3 i can go back to talking normally to you without fearing to mention sunakomo now ha! i told you already, but you helped me immensely, made me grow as an individual and as a writer, inspired me in terms of world building, helped me make sense of the bs i sometimes see on the cursed blue bird app. i am glad you decided to dm me after arent u tired trying to fill that void because our friendship means a lot to me. SO I DECIDED TO GIFT YOU SOME PORN because that’s how we do, right?
> 
> potential tw: they wake up with morning wood, so you know, it's not somnophilia bc they eventually wake up before doing anything but, its a warning just in case.

_car dans mes yeux, ça se voit  
la fièvre dans les yeux, oui, ça se voit  
mon cœur se serre, j'ai du feu dans la voix  
le plus souvent, c'est quand je pense à toi_

\- ( ❆ ) - 

**MOTOYA -**

It’s snowing outside. 

White snowflakes are falling from the clear blue sky. Mountaintops, already covered in white are touching the firmament, blending with clear grey clouds, so much it's hard to differentiate one from the other. 

They’re lost in the middle of the Alps, courtesy of Osamu who wanted to come to France for New Year's Eve. 

_They have the best cheese,_ he said, but frankly, Motoya finds it too strong, too blue.

Good thing their bread is divine. 

But dipping bread in melted cheese is divine-r. 

As long as Motoya doesn’t see blue and green dots on it, and it doesn’t smell like Kiyoomi’s socks after a game against the Adlers, he'll consider the cheese edible.

Speaking of Kiyoomi, his cousin suddenly lets out a loud groan from behind him, making Motoya look away from the glass window. He’s laying on the couch in the living room, staring angrily at a laughing Atsumu. 

“I can’t believe you _fell in the water.”_

“Shut up, we’re gonna have to start again now,” Kiyoomi groans.

They’ve been playing that cooking co-op game involving burgers and sushi and apparently, rivers that you can fall into. There’s no room for anyone else on the couch, since two professional volleyball players tend to take a lot of space when sprawled on a surface made for _averagely_ built people.

“You’re still stuck on that same level?” Rintaro emerges from the basement, at the same moment Kiyoomi finally stops fuming from his ears. 

His eyes are devoid of any expression when they land on the two weeping characters on the screen, making Motoya chuckle quietly.

“Yeah, and before you say anything more, I wanna see you try,” Atsumu almost shoves the controller inside Rintaro’s hands. 

“No, thanks,” he rolls his eyes, firmly pushing back against Atsumu’s fingers to refuse the challenge; he’s been around the twins for too long to even consider taking the bait. 

“Scared you're gonna lose?” Motoya teases, finally joining them with a mocking smile.

Resting his elbows on the back of the couch, just behind Kiyoomi’s head, he takes the controller from Atsumu’s hands and hands it to Rintaro.

“If I’m going to help them, they better pay me for it.”

“Are they still struggling?” Osamu interrupts them, coming from the basement, his hair wet from sweat.

They chose this cabin especially because of the fitness equipment stored in its basement. It was a _sine qua none_ condition for most of them. Between four professional athletes and Osamu who still goes to the gym on a weekly basis, fitness machines are a matter of life or death in their group of friends.

“Yeah, Omi fell into the water.”

“That sucks,” Osamu walks up to the couch, his hands on his hips to assess the situation. 

“You can do it, Kiyoomi, I believe in you!” Motoya laughs softly

He pats his cousin on the head, curls bouncing under his fingers. 

“Don't worry, winning is in our genes.”

“Wasn’t what you said last time you played against the Adlers,” Kiyoomi remarks.

A cacophony of _oooooh_ erupts from the others as the two cousins stare at each other, thunder crashing down between them, lighting traveling between their foreheads. 

“Not my fault Kageyama’s winning genes are better than ours,” he shrugs, taking a plastic straw from the pot next to the couch and putting it in his mouth, chewing loudly on it with a devilish smirk.

“Go to hell Motoya,” Kiyoomi grumbles, throwing a dark look at the pink straw before finally pressing the replay button.

\- ( ❆ ) - 

A mess: this is the state of the cabin Shinsuke, Akinori and Keiji are staring at in disbelief when they come back from their visit to the grocery store. 

Atsumu and Sakusa are still laying on the couch, but this time they're simply moaning about their hundredth loss. Kiyoomi is hiding inside his hood while Atsumu is staring at the back of the couch, a long desperate _ugnnnnnnnnnnnhhhh_ sound coming from his mouth, loud and terribly steady in Motoya's ears. 

Osamu has his fingers wrapped around a coffee mug, mocking his twin for his last defeat, ' _good thing I never look at you when you cook'_ ; Rintaro's eyes are glued to his phone, completely unbothered by Atsumu's whiny screams. Once again, he is used to them.

The newly arrived men look at the room for a second, before going on the balcony to shake the snow off their coats. When they come back, their hair is still covered in white, wet from the melted ice.

Motoya is a good friend. 

He’s the national team’s guardian angel (provided he’s not around Yaku), and so, he goes to the bathroom to retrieve a towel for each of them. 

They can’t get sick; Akinori is insufferable when he’s sick. 

But you can’t leave these children alone for even one minute, because when he comes back, Keiji is rubbing his probably wet and cold hair against the side of Osamu’s bare neck. And the man doesn’t even flinch, but Motoya knows better: his back is rigid, his shoulders tense. Yet, he still doesn’t shield away. How terribly in love they must be.

The same can’t be said about Atsumu who’s now running around the living room to avoid a very threatening Konoha Akinori.

Rintaro and Kiyoomi blankly stare at Shinsuke, waiting to see what he’s going to do with his hair. 

“Thank you,” Shinsuke says with a nod, accepting Motoya's towel.

“You’re welcome.”

Motoya throws thumbs ups in his direction with a wink. Shinsuke dries his face and his hair in silence, unbothered by the others’ small sigh of relief 

_(‘living with Akinori made him quite unpredictable’_ Rin tells him later.) 

\- ( ❆ ) - 

The _SWITCH_ is now turned off, the game long forgotten. The sky above them is now dotted with stars and sporadic clouds. The moon is shining high above, looking so close to them, it feels like they could touch it if they just stretched their arms.

The small village they’re staying in is mostly inhabited by old people and rich businessmen who only come to the mountains for Christmas. The nights are calm and peaceful in the valley. Thanks to the soundproof windows, their neighbours can still enjoy quiet evenings, despite how noisy they can all be once they have enough alcohol in their system.

He doesn’t notice Rin coming from inside to join him on the balcony as he's taking a picture of himself to send to Washio. The poor man failed to get a VISA on time, making him and Koutarou the only ones who couldn’t make it to their little French escapade. 

“Did you know that SWITCH games tasted awful?” Rin asks casually, so innocently Motoya could have thought he was talking about the weather.

He takes his eyes from the sea of clouds now covering the valley under them, to turn around, eyes immediately landing on Rin’s way too serious face. 

It takes a few seconds for him to lower his gaze, eyes dropping from his teammate’s nose to the arm he’s stretching in his direction, handing him said-SWITCH-game. 

“No, how do you know?” he counter-asks, innocently blinking at his teammate.

Maybe Rin googled it, maybe, someone else told him, but considering the small rectangle he’s now handing him, and the obvious wet spot he can see on it- 

“Atsumu told me.”

“Of course, Atsumu told you.”

“I didn’t believe him.” 

_He licked it._

“I believe you,” Motoya says with a smile, _no need for me to try it, thanks._

“Oh, really?”

“I do,” he nods; it’s not necessarily true, but for this one time, he’ll believe him- and fuck it if SWITCH games taste like strawberry to be honest, he’s not going to-

“You’re scared, aren’t you?” Rin teases with a grin.

 _Fuck this man,_ Motoya thinks as he grabs the small video game card. He eyes it for a second before licking the grey plastic; _it’s absolutely disgusting, take this thing away from his tongue or he’s going to throw up and die-_

“It’s not that bad,” he says, handing the game back to Rintaro, with a smile, “wait, were you the one who licked it before me?”

“Of course I was,” Rin shrugs. _Of course?_ There’s no _'of courses'_ with him. No _'of courses'_ with the teasing, and the banter- all is fair in love and Rin’s challenges, “I wouldn’t let you kiss someone else, even indirectly.” 

_See?_ All is fair in love and- Wait; Is it love or is it Rin challenging him to say something about _them?_

Motoya grins, shrugs, takes a step closer to his teammate.

“Why, though?” he knows it’s the eyebrows. They’re of great help when he wants to look innocent, as if he wasn’t dancing dangerously close with _the_ conversation they’ve been avoiding for months. 

But as expected, Rin takes a step back, physically and emotionally. The side-smirk on his lips is not really convincing. 

All is fair in love and Rin’s challenges.

But there are lines that even he won’t cross, because they never dared to, not in the last months they’ve been seeing each other outside of the court, outside of their friends’ parties, only the two of them, preferably naked- Rin takes a step back, as if he was still surprised by Motoya’s ability to answer back, although that’s the very reason all of this even _started;_

_(Motoya and his stupid innocent smile, no matter how much Rin teased him, Motoya and his aptitude to dance just right on the fine line between crude disrespect and flirtatious banter.)_

“Motoya?”

The sliding window opens behind them, tearing them away from the heavy silence. 

“Can you give me a hand with the champagne, please?” Keiji steps on the balcony.

“Sure.”

Motoya smiles softly at Keiji, follows him silently. He’s a good kid ( _‘you’re the same age as him, Motoya,’_ Osamu always reminds him), and probably the one he enjoys teasing the most. 

It’s been a really fun experience to watch him come out of his shell around their little group of friends. 

Now that he thinks about it, Keiji’s probably the one who changed the most since they all started hanging out together. He's the only one who went from being on the saner side of the scale, to joining the darker side of the Force, now following his best friend and Motoya in most of their shenanigans, under the astonished gaze of both _og Miyas._

He shoves a bottle of champagne in Motoya’s hands with a polite smile before he goes back to the fridge to open a bottle of wine which Osamu selected for them. Keiji opens it efficiently, while Motoya starts pulling at his own cork, slowly, carefully- until _of. fucking. course:_ the thing explodes, cork flying in the air and liquid and bubbles ending on his perfectly clean shirt.

_“Fuck.”_

_“AHAHAHAHAHAHA!”_ the terrible sound comes from behind him.

“Shut the fuck up Atsumu,” Motoya groans, putting the green bottle on the counter before running to the bathroom, giving his friend his best middle finger.

\- ( ❆ ) - 

**RINTARO -**

Honestly, he doesn't really pay attention to Keiji and Motoya after they go back inside. He simply follows them and directly walks in Kita's direction. 

After he stopped being his captain, and especially after he started dating Akinori, Rintaro had finally, _finally_ realized Kita Shinsuke wasn't going to curse him with his millenium-old knowledge and his magic rice crops. No. Kita Shinsuke was, believe it or not, just as human as all of them, i.e. not immune to chaos. 

“Kita-san-,” he starts. 

He usually calls him Shinsuke; after almost a decade of friendship, the boy finally overcame the intimidation that was always lingering at the back of his neck whenever he was alone with his former captain. But this time, he calls him by the name that means _‘you hold the knowledge of the gods, and I am a mere mortal. Please help me.’_

“Yes, Rintaro?”

“Did you know that SWITCH games taste awful?”

“Akinori told me, yes.”

The fucker beat him to it.

“And you believe him?” he teases with his most infuriating grin.

“I double-checked on Google,” Shinsuke admits.

Now that he says it- Rintaro indeed notices that Akinori's not glued to his side like he usually is whenever they're in the same room. 

Meaning, he’s probably pouting because of Shinsuke’s _revolting_ lack of trust. 

Instead, he's currently sitting next to Kiyoomi, speaking with agitated movements. Suddenly, he wonders if he’s trying to make Kiyoomi lick the SWITCH game too.

He's about to join them on the couch to ask (and try to make Kiyoomi actually lick the small grey card if he can), when he hears Motoya's scream and Atsumu's laughter. 

If someone's making fun of his libero, it's his personal duty as an EJP player, to join and laugh at Motoya too.

But he's already running to the bathroom, leaving drops of champagne behind him, like a trail. Rintaro smoothly changes his trajectory before Akinori or Kiyoomi can notice him, making Kita the only one to see his sudden change of plan. He looks at Rintaro with a neutral stare before taking a sip of beer, clearly not judging his poor impulse control.

He wouldn't dare. 

Not when he's dating, Konoha Akinori. _The_ Akinori Konoha who does- A mentally created image of Rintaro enters the scene to vaguely gesture at Akinori who's now laying on Kiyoomi, trying to convince him to do something with his face very close to his - _that._

Rintaro shrugs and climbs up the stairs to join Motoya in the bathroom. It's to make fun of him, he tells himself.

\- ( ❆ ) -

It's definitely not to make fun of him, he realizes as soon as he steps inside the bathroom. 

Motoya looks at him with a happy smile, like he's not _surprised_ but simply pleased to see him here, almost like he was _expecting him to be here-_ the little shit.

“You’re just gonna stare, or you’re gonna help? Get me a clean shirt, if you don’t know what to do.”

Rin sticks his tongue out; Motoya starts taking off his clothes. Apart from his socks, every item of clothing on his body has stains of alcohol on it. He almost looks at each falling piece of fabric with a blank stare with what some might call _disgust._

But it's _Motoya,_ and disgust is an emotion he allocates for special occasions, like the sight of Osamu and Keiji having sex in their very much _shared_ kitchen. 

“I’m good with just looking,” Rintaro shrugs, looking at the numerous moles on Motoya’s back; trying to recall which ones he kissed in the morning, and which one he kept for tonight.

He watches as he steps inside the shower, admiring the muscles usually hidden under his oversized clothes- but Motoya throws his yellow papaya shower gel at him. 

Rintaro grins when he catches it with one hand. Effortlessly. It's his job to block projectiles.

“You wanna help and clean me up?” the libero half-jokes; but they both know it’s half an invitation.

Rintaro smirks, walking closer. He still enjoys being the bigger person (both in terms of height and mental age), looking down on his teammate for a second before kissing his forehead with a _smooch._

“Your hair smells like alcohol,” he observes with a small grimace. Not that he minds the smell of alcohol. Just not in Motoya’s hair.

“I know, I don’t know if you’ve noticed but a bottle of _alcohol_ exploded on me.”

“I just heard- didn't get to see, unfortunately.”

“‘t was Atsumu’s fault.”

Rintaro sneers, Motoya laughs, but still pulls him inside the shower as soon as Rintaro is as naked as him, looking at him with unhidden hunger in his eyes.

“You know I showered this morning?” but his protestation can’t sound great when he’s the one who threw his clothes in the sink.

He is splendidly ignored and warm water starts flowing from the square shower head above their heads. The shower gel bottle is still in his hand and Motoya is now looking at him expectedly, his orange-brown hair looking darker now. 

Rintaro’s eyes wander down, following the streams of water that cascade down Motoya’s body. His mouth opens slightly when the small shower starts to become steamy. He needs to get more air in his lungs before he passes out, both from inhaling water through his nose and before Motoya smirking at him with wet eyelashes kills him.

He squeezes some yellow shower gel in his hands. Then, starts rubbing Motoya’s shoulders, watching his pale bony fingers press against darker wet skin, until his teammate starts to gasp under the pressure of his thumbs at the back of his neck. 

It goes slowly, he rubs the foam on his chest, gently pinching his nipples, winning him a small guttural moan from Motoya’s throat; he presses his fingers against his spine to make him shiver. 

Rintaro goes even slower when he starts cleaning his hands, rubbing each one of Motoya's long fingers with the care only a lover would demonstrate. He thoroughly massages the sides of his nails. Touching the thin skin between each finger earns him a small gasp, before he starts kissing them, opening his mouth to gently bite his lover's thumb, his index finger; and it’s Rintaro’s turn to let out a choked off moan. 

Their gazes meet and Motoya’s burning eyes warn him before he pushes him against the tiled wall. The feeling of cutting tiles against his back makes him jump internally, before the steam around them enters back inside his brain, making his mind dizzier. 

He squeezes more shower gel in his hand, glues his eyes on Motoya and starts rubbing his legs, scratching his inner thighs with his carefully clipped nails, goes up to press a finger in between his legs, stays there for a second. Motoya almost closes his eyes, making Rintaro click his tongue. He massages his balls carefully, his free hand finally closing around his now hard dick. 

For the first time since he entered the shower, he slowly kisses him, parting his lips only after leaving more chaste kisses on the corner of his mouth. But as soon as Motoya’s tongue brushes against his, his fingers tighten around his dick. The water has washed away every remnant of shower gel when he finally falls to his knees. 

“Rin,” Motoya softly whispers, burying his finger in his wet hair.

He simply kisses the tip of his cock before opening his mouth, taking him centimetre by centimetre, as slowly as he can. Just so that he can get to hear a frustrated groan from above, just so that he can feel the impatient grip of Motoya’s fingers in his hair-

 _“Rin,”_ the first thing that goes through his brain is that Motoya really isn’t that inventive in his dirty walk. 

Good thing he’s too busy sucking his cock to be able to voice his thoughts, because it would probably have earned him to be shoved against the wall and face-fucked unceremoniously. Not that he would _mind,_ but he still has to go back to the party once they’re done, and his voice will already be raspy enough from this. 

“Rin, _fuck.”_

He closes his fingers around the base of Motoya's cock and starts squeezing, moving up and down in the same rhythm his head moves, moaning loudly when he feels his lover's fingers tightening in his hair. 

And _fuck._ If the weight of his cock on his tongue in this position is usually already enough to make his brain short circuit rapidly; with the running water, the walls of the shower, everything feels even more _close_ , intimate and suffocating. 

It's like he can't breathe, only take, take Motoya's dick in his mouth, take the pain of his nails scraping his scalp, take the humiliation of him moaning his name when all their friends are having a party only a few walls away.

Rintaro is known to be shameless in bed: he isn't necessarily loud, but he likes what he likes and is unapologetic about it. Motoya is the same, except he's _loud._ They're a match made in heaven and all their friends would hate them for it, if they weren't all just as equally dirty.

He licks the underside of his head with the flat of his tongue, before opening his eyes, looking up to meet Motoya's gaze. And that does it. His teammate opens his mouth, one of his hands leaving his hair to rest on the wall, while the other guides him, showing him the right rhythm. Rintaro follows the pulls of Motoya's fingers obediently, moaning along, obscene sounds leaving his mouth as it stays closed around his partner's dick.

“Shit- nnhh, Rin, fuck, yes, yes- coming _coming, Rin shit!”_

He feels him tensing, and when he holds his head in place, he doesn't even try to move, letting Motoya come in his mouth, sperm hitting his tongue. 

“Fuck.”

Rintaro smirks when he stands up, closing his eyes while he enjoys the feeling of Motoya's hand cupping his cheek gently, softly stroking his skin. 

When he opens them again, the softness in his heart is gone. He smirks before opening his mouth, letting Motoya's cum fall on the shower floor as he spits, watching the running water wash it away.

“You're disgusting,” Motoya grimaces.

“What, you wanted me to swallow?”

“Yes!”

“Why?”

“It's hot!”

“But it's disgusting.”

“It's- _oh now it's disgusting!”_ Motoya rolls his eyes, but smiles fondly at him.

“The only reason I swallow is because the toilets are down the hall at your place, and I can't be bothered to get out of bed or- wherever we do it.”

“Mmmmh.”

“What.”

“You know I was there when you begged me to fill your throat with my cum that one time after the game against Ital- _what the fuck Rin?”_ he yells. 

But Rintaro has made his mind as soon as the word _Italy_ is pronounced, and the shower knob is turned to the _coldest setting._ He hops out of the shower, closing the door behind him, ignoring Motoya's undignified screams.

“I will _murder you, Sunarin!”_

“Shouldn't have brought up Italy.”

Rintaro has just the time to rush out of the bathroom with a towel clumsily wrapped around his waist right before his lover throws an innocent toothbrush at him with an undignified scream. 

\- ( ❆ ) - 

“Did you order a special flour from _Italy_ just to make a pizza, Osamu?” Motoya candidly asks, ignoring the way Rin's head snaps at the mention of _Italy._

“No, you can find it in the supermarkets here.”

Motoya nods like he's actually interested in what Osamu is saying. Well, he might be. He hasn't had the time to grow immune to the twins’ weird shit (like paying insane shipping fees to get this special pizza flour, or whatever it is that Osamu imports from Italy. It's white powder, and he might as well put some cocaine in his dough instead, Rin wouldn't be able to tell the difference.) 

Motoya is nodding more fervently at whatever Osamu just said; good for him. And suddenly, Atsumu appears out of nowhere, puts his hand inside the bag of flour and throws a handful of white powder on top of his brother's head. 

“I’M GOING TO MURDER YOU,” Osamu screams.

No one has the time to move before Osamu takes the ladle inside the bowl of tomato sauce, aiming at his brother’s face. Atsumu only half manages to avoid the red sauce; but his shirt takes the hit for his hair. 

His hand is already going inside the flour bag again when pale fingers wrap around his wrists.

“Are you a child, Atsumu?” Kiyoomi asks, judgement painted everywhere on his face.

“Yes, Omi-kun, I am a child.” 

His fingers leave the paper bag, tightened in a fist containing, without a doubt, a large amount of flour-

Rin takes a look at Motoya who’s already recording Osamu’s reaction while he aims his camera at Atsumu- 

“What on earth are you two doing?” Keiji arrives from the hallway, taking in the scene with a long sigh.

“Keiji-”

“Atsumu, put the flour down.”

“But-”

“Put it down. Do you want to be the one to explain to Kita-san why you’re wasting the months of hard labour someone put in making this flour?”

Osamu sticks his tongue out at his brother behind his husband's back, but Keiji immediately turns his head to look at him, raising both his eyebrows in a challenging look. 

“Do _you_ want to be the one to tell him?”

“But-”

“Tell him you’re sorry.”

“He started it!” Osamu argues with an offended cry.

“Tell him.”

“No.”

“You, Atsumu, tell him.”

“No.”

“BOTH AT THE SAME TIME, THEN. AT THREE. ONE- TWO- THRE-”

Both twins raise their two middle fingers, shoving them in the other’s face, screaming incomprehensible gibberish under Keiji’s (fondly) exasperated look. Kiyoomi gave up on trying to tame the twins a long time ago, but Keiji is nothing if not dedicated to his personally-imposed duty.

Rin is still recording the entire scene when Akinori materializes next to him, laughing at the screaming twins. He lazily throws a black olive in his mouth, taking it right from the jar, mocking Akaashi’s desperate attempt at stopping the twins-

The hairs on Rin’s arms suddenly stand up, his sixth sense warning him against some type of upcoming chaos- Akinori shoves his hand inside the paper bag. He’s so fast Rin doesn’t even have the time to avoid the flour he releases in his hair- _fucking idiot._

“WHY AREN’T YOU SAYING ANYTHING TO HIM?” Atsumu screams, pointing at Akinori, his mouth opened in an O shape.

“He’s not scared of Kita-san,” Osamu grimaces.

“He’s doing it on purpose,” Keiji nods in agreement.

When Rin notices Akinori looking at the bowl of tomato sauce, he leaves the kitchen. 

He discreetly joins Kiyoomi who left the scene a long time ago to chill in front of the TV, in a more quiet area of the house.

“Ah, the _Italian_ heritage-” Motoya muses in a loud whisper when he walks behind the couch. 

He doesn’t even stop long enough to look at Rintaro’s half-heated, half-infuriated stare; he simply goes from the kitchen to the balcony, Akinori trailing behind him. If Kiyoomi noticed something (and the man grew up with Motoya, so there’s no way he didn’t), he doesn’t say anything.

\- ( ❆ ) - 

So, Rintaro has a problem. 

It doesn't matter if Motoya has tried to stab his hand with a fork at least twice, or if he bit his forearm in retaliation for the cold shower, or if he mentioned _Italy_ at least three times already. He is still half hard, and every time his cock finally gets the message and softens for a while, his eyes meet Motoya’s burning gaze; and with this, his attention is peaked again, his dick makes its presence known again, and he ends up frustrated _again._

 _Fucking Motoya and his fucking attractive grin, his barely hidden winks-_ it’s still a mystery how they haven’t been caught yet. 

Maybe they have been. 

They’re not the only ones still stuck in the _teammates with benefits_ corner who think they’re being subtle.

So, maybe, the others just don’t acknowledge the ever rising sexual tension in the room- 

Maybe they just decided that whatever was going on between them was their own personal business. That’s how they dealt with these types of situations in the past, when Osamu started bringing Keiji to the parties as his _friend,_ when Kita arrived with Akinori for the first time, introducing him as _Keiji’s best friend,_ when someone caught Atsumu and Kiyoomi kissing in the bathroom- _it’s their own business._

But ignoring things, either voluntarily or not, meant that it would end up with them in situations like this one.

“I challenge you to a body shot duel!” Konoha shouts, pointing his index finger at Akaashi. He immediately clicks his tongue when Keiji’s eyes travel towards Osamu on the other side of the room. “But this time you can’t have ‘Samu as your partner- he always helps you.”

“You can’t play with Kita-san either, then,” Keiji grins.

“Fine,” Akinori shooting a desperate look at his boyfriend; the smile that spreads on Shinsuke's lips- let’s say that if Motoya had been the one smirking at Rin like that, he would have left to jack off in the bathroom. “I’ll take Atsumu then-”

“No way,” Keiji shakes his head, “the only neutral partners for you are Motoya and Sunarin.”

So.

Rin is peacefully minding his own business, serving beers inside wine glasses just to piss Osamu off; sure, Motoya is sitting on the other side of the kitchen island, watching him with his fingers laced under his chin, throwing _looks_ at him that make his dick come alive again, but overall, he’s just watching from afar- 

Until he hears Shinsuke say his name, that is. 

“I think Rin should be the one to play with Aki, yes,” the farmer grins, looking right at him from the other side of the room. 

_Why would he do this to him? Is it because of the many times he rushed his cleaning duty back in high school? Is it because he accumulated too much blackmail material over the years? Is it simply out of spite?_

“I’ll bring the lime,” Osamu says, planting a kiss on his husband’s head in a very much public display of sweet affection. _Disgusting._

Rintaro doesn’t dare to meet Motoya’s eyes from across the table, though, simply nodding with a shrug. He busies himself, taking the wine glasses to give them to the ones who will not participate to Keiji and Akinori’s stupid competition. It’s not the first time he does body shots with them, and his secret involvement with Motoya won’t keep him from having fun.

“Lay on the table, darling,” Akinori winks at him, catching the salt Atsumu throws at him. 

How he can still do that despite the amount of alcohol they all already drank, he doesn’t know. 

At least he didn’t spike the salt. 

He briefly turns his head to look at who’s Keiji’s unfortunate partner will be and can’t hide his surprise when he meets Kiyoomi’s dark eyes. 

_Interesting._

It doesn’t take a lot of time before Rin finds himself shirtless, a glass shot of tequila on his stomach, salt comfortably resting on his shoulder, just on the side of his neck. He’s laying on his back, looking at the ceiling, lights blinding him as he looks at the lamps, as Keiji and Akinori are insulting each other; but they seem too drunk to even come up with real insults. 

Closing his eyes for a second, he finds out the world is spinning when he opens them again. Atsumu starts the countdown. 

“Hands behind your back,” he announces.

_Three;_

Akinori comes to stand between Rin’s spread legs hanging from the top of the table, Keiji mirroring his position with Kiyoomi. 

_Two;_

Rin takes a deep breath, Kiyoomi has the same amount of abs as him, meaning he’ll probably sit up just as fast as him. 

_One;_

His eyes lock with Akinori's, and they grin at each other. 

Together, they’re unstoppable, they both know this. 

They’ve known this since the first time they texted each other, that one time Rin realized he finally found a gossip-lover just as powerful as himself. Akinori is a gift from the gods.

_Go._

Akinori closes his lips around the small shot glass, and as soon as he feels it leaving the skin of his stomach, Rin immediately sits up, making it easier for his body-shot partner to access the salt located on his shoulder; but as soon as he’s steady on his elbows, his eyes land right in front of him, a few meters away. His gaze immediately meets chestnut irises, half hidden behind a wine glass of amber alcohol. 

_Fuck._

Akinori’s tongue touches the thin skin of his neck at the same time Motoya lowers his glass, revealing a smirk that doesn’t match the innocent gleam in his eyes. His lips part instinctively at the wet contact against his throat, arousal flaming up his spine when Motoya takes another sip of wine, never leaving his eyes. 

So much for telling him he wouldn’t let anyone kiss him.

His jeans are already tight around his dick when Akinori’s face comes closer to his, capturing the slice of lime between his lips, barely even touching his mouth in the process, careful not to overstep his boundaries. 

He doesn’t mind, really- he’s not the one with a boyfriend here- but Atsumu is already screaming Keiji’s name, crowning him the undefeated king of body shots; no one is surprised. 

“I’m sorry,” he tells Akinori with a smile, “I’ll get you an extra bag of fertilizer for your birthday.”

But his body-shot partner only has the time to laugh quietly for a quick moment, before Shisunke appears behind him, eyes burning like never before in Rin’s presence- _good lord, it’s terrifying._

“Bedroom, now,” he whispers right into his boyfriend’s ear, just loud enough for Rintaro to hear.

“Yes, Sir,” Akinori yelps, straightening his back immediately. He almost throws the small shot glass on the counter to get rid of it before hurriedly turning on his heels to follow Shinsuke upstairs.

\- ( ❆ ) - 

They have the decency to wait until Atsumu and Kiyoomi announce that they're _going outside for a walk_ to leave the kitchen themselves. Osamu and Keiji don’t complain, not even for the sake of it, way too happy to be left alone in the kitchen. 

Who knows what's going to happen on the counter, between the microwave and the knives? 

Everyone.

Motoya is the first one to leave, yawning like he hasn't slept in days. Rintaro looks at him, wondering if it’s a hidden invitation. 

It doesn’t matter, really, because he still takes the time to hop in the shower for the third time this day. It’s not like he got the time to get any cleaner during his second one, he probably ended up dirtier even. 

The water is warm on his naked skin. He lets his head fall against the dark tiles of the shower, closing his eyes as the soap runs down his body. 

_It was definitely an invitation,_ his mind suddenly supplies him with the unrequired thought. 

Well, he’s going to wait for a little longer, then. 

Motoya’s been teasing him for so many hours, he’s pretty sure he’ll come just from looking at him at this point- and fairly, holding his gaze as Akinori was sucking the skin of neck, was an experience that his dick might have liked a bit too much. 

It’s pure instinct; his fingers are wrapped around his already half cock, and he closes his eyes, letting his fist go up and down slowly. _Yeah, he can wait for a little longer._

He doesn’t even think of Akinori, he becomes just a random person in his mind; the only thing printed behind his eyelids are Motoya’s eyes fixed on him, the fire burning in the chestnut flames. It’s the knowledge that _he_ is the one who ignited this fire, _he_ is the one Motoya wants to burn with- 

_You can flirt with others, touch others all you want-_

_I’ll still be the one on your mind,_

It says.

It means.

_You’re mine, you’re mine, you’re mine- no one else’s-_

And maybe it’s a fantasy, a stupid dream; 

But it’s a damn good one, because he just has to slightly tighten his grip on his cock, picturing Motoya’s burning eyes on him with a stranger’s thigh against Rin’s dick- he comes in a silent cry.

\- ( ❆ ) - 

As soon as he steps out of the shower, just after wrapping a towel around his waist, his first reflex is to check his phone, like the eternal social media addict that he is. But it’s not the twenty usual Instagram notifications that catch his attention (he's grown pretty much immune to them by now).

There’s a banana emoji sitting next to Motoya’s name (he put it there after the libero decided he, Rintaro and Washio would be called the banana gang). And just under the said banana emoji, showcased in all its purple glory, is an aubergine emoji.

 _Come to my room,_ the next text reads. But the aubergine was clear enough to make him understand what exactly Motoya wanted (it’s not like he usually wanted anything else from Rin anyway).

He quickly dries his hair with his towel, brushes his teeth and hurries upstairs. Because he’s used to this situation, he decides against his instincts and still goes to his own room to take his pyjamas and a clean pair of underwear. The walk of shame is always hard, but doing it in dirty clothes is harder- he learned this the hard way. 

Not even wasting his energy in knocking, he pushes Motoya’s bedroom door open. The first thing he sees is the TV on the wall. He sneers when he sees Rock Lee’s drunken fist demonstration on the screen as he fights against Kimimaro. 

“Fancy seeing you here,” Motoya finally speaks, catching his teammate’s attention. 

He totally forgets about Rock Lee as soon as he turns his head, finally closing the door behind him. Motoya is watching him with an innocent smile, looking up from his phone. But it’s not the smile, not the amused glint in his eyes, not the soft teasing voice that makes his dick wake up. 

_Breathe, Rin._

Because Motoya is laying on his back, completely naked, one hand on his phone, the other on his dick, and he’s just- 

Okay, Rin has a crush. If it wasn’t obvious before, it clearly is now. It doesn’t matter what Motoya is doing, as long as he’s looking at him, he knows he’s done for. 

“You sure took your time,” Motoya continues, putting his phone next to him.

“I showered.”

“Oh, too much salt on your skin?” Motoya smirks, and the sight _of course_ goes straight to his dick, again. 

“It wasn’t-” he starts, doesn’t really know what he was going to say; _it wasn’t like that._ But of course Motoya knows this. 

“You said you wouldn’t let anyone kiss me, mh?” 

“I would probably _accidentally_ drop a few glasses of red wine on their shirt,” he shrugs. 

And finally, he starts moving, walking towards Motoya, towards the bed. He sets his clean clothes on the dresser under the TV. 

“I don’t mind if you kiss other people,” Motoya finally whispers, looking straight into Rin’s eyes. 

This time, it doesn’t go straight to his dick, it stops right in his chest, an ice pick through his heart. 

He knows there’s nothing serious between them- nothing more serious than seeing each other every day for work and every weekend for extracurricular activities; nothing more serious than cancelling other plans they made just to spend time with each other; nothing more serious than having morning sex almost every Sunday.

Still, it _fucking_ hits him right in the _fucking_ feels, and he’s about to turn around, because if there’s nothing serious between them, he has every right to just go away and do _more serious_ stuff on his very own.

He freezes, biting his lips, about to say something witty, to avoid being just _hurtful-_

But Motoya jumps from the bed to stand in front of Rin, on his tippy-toes so their eyes are at equal level; and suddenly, turning away becomes a more and more difficult option with every passing second.

“Because I know-” he raises his right hand towards Rin’s face, placing a strand of black hair back behind his ear, “-that you would be thinking about me anyway.”

The wheels inside his brain are already turning at full speed; he has to find a smart comeback- _I don’t care if you kiss other people_ (a lie), _I was not thinking about you_ (another lie).

“You have such a big ego for such a tiny body.” (it’s a lie too, but at least it’s a spineless one) 

The thing is. Motoya is not _tiny._ He’s 1.80. He’s taller than most people of their age.

So he simply laughs quietly and shrugs.

“You have such a stiff pride for such a flexible body.”

It’s not pride. 

It’s _insecurity._

“You love my flexible body.”

Motoya’s hand falls from his ear to his neck, and his thumb is now pressing against his throat- it’s not hard, or threatening; if anything, it’s soft, and warm, and makes his stomach curl and shivers run down his spine. 

“Never said otherwise,” Motoya whispers. His breath hitches. “It’s the only body I want to touch,” his hand travels from Rin’s throat to the point between his collarbones, then over his raging heart, “you won’t have to spill wine on someone any time soon, _Su-na-rin.”_

He pronounces each syllable of his nickname with a tap of his index finger on his flesh, a small teasing smile spreading over his lips. 

“I-” Rin inhales deeply and shrugs, “I knew that.”

“Sure, you did.” 

Motoya smirks, letting his hand fall down his side this time, and Rin makes the fatal mistake to let his eyes drop with it. Now, he’s staring at Motoya’s still half-hard dick. He’s not really intoxicated anymore, tipsiness long forgotten; so he doesn’t have any justification for the way his mind immediately goes blank at the sight. He’s seen the dick many times, he’s sucked it, had it in his ass- _He’s the only one this dick wants to touch-_

There’s nothing serious between them-

“Kiss me, maybe?” Motoya suggests, tearing him away from his reverie, and Rin doesn’t have to be told twice. 

His hands fly up to his libero’s face, pulling him against his chest, and he doesn’t even try to hide the sounds that escape his throat when their mouths open and their tongues crash against one another; it’s a heated kiss that makes him moan, low, down in his throat. It’s only a matter of seconds before Rin’s back hits the mattress. 

Motoya doesn’t waste a second more, and quickly enough, he gets rid of his teammate’s clothes, all of them, and it’s a miracle nothing ends up being ripped apart in his hurry. He quickly manoeuvres Rin on his stomach, leaving some small bite marks on his shoulders; it makes the other man moan softly against the mattress. 

Suddenly, the marks become more than just regular red marks, they become marks of possession; and maybe it’s all in his head, and maybe Motoya simply leaves red bruises for the sake of it, but Rin still goes completely pliant as soon as he feels his lover’s lips sucking on his skin with a clear intent in his mind.

He travels down his back until he’s face deep between his ass cheeks, tongue sliding against his hole and inside of it; and Rin can only groan in surprise, clawing the sheets under him. He knows better than to try to take charge when Motoya’s like this. 

The bottle of lube is already on the bed, until it’s not anymore, now in Motoya’s hand. 

He slips the first finger in easily; it’s one of the rare occasions when they can have sex every day for an entire week without having to worry about getting noticed during practice: they definitely took advantage of it. Rin probably should be embarrassed about how easily it slips in, with no resistance at all. He feels a second finger enter him, and when Motoya curves it downwards, palm resting against his perineum and he touches his prostate almost on the first try, Rin loses it. 

He’s resting on his elbows and his knees instead of laying directly on the bed and sooner than later, Motoya is pressing his dick against his already stretched hole; and he’s not entering, simply _staying there._

_“Fuck, ‘toya.”_

He feels his lover smirk against his back as he adds a third finger. It takes more time than the others, but there’s no pain, it’s perfectly bearable. His moans are muffled against his forearm. 

So, he’s currently on all fours on Motoya’s bed, with three fingers of his libero shoved inside his ass when said-libero decides to withdraw his fingers, ignoring Rin’s whiny protest. He’s expecting to feel his dick against him now, expecting something harder, wider against his ass, but it’s not coming- instead, Motoya sits against his pillows, facing the TV. 

“It’s the moment when the Sunagakure comes to rescue Shikamaru, Lee and Kiba,” he says, looking at the screen. 

Rin’s eyes widen, looking at him in disbelief. _He’s really stopping to watch- to watch Gaara fight- Fuck this._ Rin groans and comes to stand on his knees in front of his lover, preventing him from seeing the screen. 

Motoya hits the pause button.

“Can you move?” he asks with a smile.

“Can you fuck me?” Rin talks back with a face as serious as he can muster in this state.

“Once the fight is over.”

“You- _I hate you.”_

“No, you don’t,” Motoya laughs, patting his arm to make him move, “now can you _please_ move?” 

And he has the audacity to look at his phone, and to type something, not even _looking_ at Rin, as if he wasn’t- as if he’s just _here,_ like a fucking plant. _Asshole._

“What if I don’t?”

“Then I won’t fuck you.”

“I can still just finger myself.”

Motoya throws his phone back on the nightstand; his pupils are still dilated and his dick is still hard between his legs. If they start a staring contest, they both know Rin is better at it.

“You’re that desperate, uh?”

_Fuck this man, really._

But he can’t even hide the wave of arousal that runs through his veins as soon as Motoya starts looking up and down at him. 

“Akinori really had an effect on you.”

_Fuck._

He knew Motoya couldn’t be as _unaffected_ by this as he pretended. Suddenly, it feels like someone dropped an ice bucket on his body- what if he truly thinks he's interested in their friend; _fuck indeed._

“It’s not him-” he tries to explain, _it’s you- and your fucking smirk._

“Didn’t look like it’s not him.”

And then, the entire world crumbles; because he’s about to argue, he’s about to tell him it’s really not Akinori, because it’s really not, he’s not interested in anyone else- but the gods have decided against it apparently, because suddenly, he can very clearly hear noises coming from the room next to Motoya’s, from the other side of the wall.

_(“Fuck- Sir, please, please-”_

_“What makes you think you deserve anything right now?”_

_“Sir- oh god!"_

_“You’re not really convincing here, love. I took away the ball gag for one reason only, and you’re not even capable of begging correctly.”_

_“Please.”_

_“It’ll take more than that, and you know it.”)_

Rin’s brain freezes, eyes lost on the brick wall, and the only thing he can think about is the fact that, on the other side of that same wall, Kita Shinsuke is currently doing _things_ to Akinori- his dick grows harder again, twitching pathetically between his legs; and his gaze lands down on Motoya’s face. 

The libero grins, raising his eyebrows.

“Doesn’t look like he doesn’t affect you.”

His eyes are shining with mischief. _Fuck. He set this up, didn’t he?_

“‘Toya.”

“I have a fight to watch.”

_I have an ass that needs to be filled._

“Please.” 

_(“Kita- fuck please- I need- I need-”_

_“What do you need, mh?”)_

It’s almost like Kita’s voluntarily loud enough for them to hear.

“Desperate looks good on you.”

“Motoya.”

“I’m not fucking you before I’m done watching this battle. It’s one of my favourite, you see.” Motoya’s grin becomes wider at the sight of Rin’s offended face, “and you’re not coming before I do.”

“I hate you.”

 _“But-”_ Motoya’s back leaves the headboard, his face coming closer to Rin, his arms wrap themselves around his waist, and he pulls him closer, “I can still fuck you.”

_“Fuck.”_

_(“Ohmygod, yes- here, Kita-” Akinori’s moans are obscene, but Shinsuke only laughs, and he doesn’t have to hear the slap to understand why his friend is yelping on the other side of that wall._

_“Everyone can hear you, Aki.”_

_“I know- oh god-”_

_“You really can't help yourself.”_

_“Please!”)_

“Have you seen this episode?” Motoya casually asks, slipping two fingers inside Rin again.

They enter his hole shamefully easily, and it makes his breath hitch, his shoulders tense- _fuck, he’s really that desperate, isn’t he?_

“I love the friendship between the two villages- and Lee and Gaara’s relationship is really interesting,” another finger enters him and honestly, he’s not listening to Motoya's comments on _Naruto_ anymore. 

He's too busy trying to keep still on his fingers. But they curl inwards, massaging his prostate, and he moans quietly. Akinori might be shameless, but he’s not going to let them hear- 

_(He’s not talking anymore, but his whimpers are loud enough for them to hear; Kita’s probably still hitting him because they become louder every two or three minutes.)_

“Rin?” 

“Yes?” he manages to choke out.

“I’m going to turn on the TV again.” 

_The sooner he turns it on, the sooner it’ll be over and the sooner he’ll be allowed to come._

_But what if he comes before?_

Trust Motoya to find the worst retaliation method possible.

“And you’re going to sit on my dick.”

_(“Fuck, Shin- you’re going to kill me.”)_

Honestly, _same._

“You’re going to keep it warm, and hard, but you’re not going to come, is that clear?”

Rin whimpers, but he nods. He can do this, he tells himself. Motoya smiles and pats his own thigh, silently ordering him to get closer. 

“Turn around,” Motoya orders, “watch it with me.” 

He doesn’t know if it’s a good or a bad thing. On the one hand, this position will probably prevent his prostate from getting too stimulated, on the other hand… this position will prevent his prostate from being stimulated in the way he craves it. 

He promptly turns around, not without taking one last look at the smile Motoya sends him. A small moan escapes his mouth as he watches the libero's fingers move around his dick to take it back to full hardness. 

When he finally sinks down on it, he stops breathing for a moment, closing his eyes to _focus_. His teeth sink in his lower lip to prevent him from moaning too loud as the first centimetres stretch him. He's feeling delirious already.

 _“When you fought me, you had more speed and sharpness,”_ Gaara says on the TV screen; Rin is still sliding down on his lover’s cock.

Motoya’s hands slither around his waist, hugging him from behind. He doesn’t force him down, lets him take him as slow as he needs, even softly kissing his shoulder.

By the time he’s fully seated, Shikamaru and Temari have replaced Gaara and Lee on the screen. Motoya’s head is resting against Rin’s, his temple against his cheek and his chin comfortably installed on his shoulder.

“She’s so badass,” he comments, and Rin has to take a few moments to understand he’s talking about Temari. 

His back is arched, and it feels like there’s fire lapping at his stomach, and he feels big inside him, and so comfortable, the curve of his dick so familiar. He never thought he would ever consider someone else's dick _familiar_ and yet, here he was.

“Fuck, ‘Toya.”

“Shhh.”

But he can feel him twitch inside him, his fingers gripping his hips tighter; Rin smirks, turning his head slightly to kiss Motoya’s temple, but the libero clicks his tongue. He points at the TV with his chin and Rin cries out, trying to keep still.

“I think I always had a crush on Kankuro,” he whispers, “maybe it’s the strings, or the purple make-up, I don’t really know.”

His breath hits the sensitive skin of his throat, his voice soft inside his ear. There’s no way he’s going to focus on _Naruto._ He just _can’t._ It’s impossible, he’s going to fail, there’s no way his brain is going to work harder than his dick right now. 

_(“You’re going to come? Mh? Just from my fingers?”_

_“Kita- fuck- yesyesyesyes!”)_

It’s stronger than him; it’s pure instinct. His hips start moving on their own accord, moving in small circles to create just a bit of friction- it’s not enough to make him get closer to orgasm, just enough to calm the fire in his body. 

“Stop moving, you’re distracting me.”

Rin whimpers. He whimpers and has to claw at the sheets under him. 

Motoya, however, in his great generosity, wraps his fingers around his cock, ripping a long moan out of his throat. He simply keeps his hand here, not moving it, just warm, and firm around his length and Rin starts losing his mind. His shoulders are starting to hurt, and his entire body is tight, tight, tight- but if he moves, he knows he won’t be able to stop, he will obviously try to get some friction, then more of it- 

“Can you imagine all the kinky shit Kankuro can do with his puppet strings?”

 **No.**

No, he can’t, because his brain is melting, and he has a dick up his ass, but it’s not moving, and he wants to fucking die. But Rin simply cries out weakly, his fingers tight around the sheets to ground himself, to prevent him from moving. 

_(“I can’t- Shin- not again- FUCK-”)_

Akinori is coming for at least the second time that night, and Rin is still sitting here, watching Naruto (pretending to, at least) _fuck this shit, honestly._

He sits up and slams his body down.

 _“Fuck,”_ he moans, not able to keep it inside. 

But he only has the time to do it twice before Motoya’s arms get firmer around him, keeping him in place. He still manages to rock against him, back and forth instead of up and down; his moans turn into choked sobs too quickly for him to be proud of it-

_“Please.”_

Motoya hits the pause button. _Fuck no._

“There’s another episode after this one, so you better behave.”

“Motoya-” 

He can’t keep still- he just _can’t._ His body is not listening to his brain, and his brain is already too cloudy to even try to stop his hips from moving- he’s _fucked._ The air feels like cotton in his lungs, thick and warm, it’s suffocating just how much _heat_ there is around them. 

He bites down a moan, still moving his hips, small rotating motions giving just enough friction for his mind to go wild; he doesn’t even know what to do anymore, doesn’t know what his mind should focus on. He can still hear Akinori’s voice, can still hear the distant sound of Gaara speaking (when did Motoya press the play button again?), but more than anything else, he _feels_ Motoya’s dick inside him, his hand still around his dick- and he can’t stop whining, weak and quiet. 

It’s a faint sound that the couple on the other side of the wall probably can’t hear. 

But Motoya can.

And he doesn’t seem to mind because his free hand simply rubs the skin over his rib, gentle, almost _congratulating, loving._

The next episode finally starts. He’s halfway through _\- ugh._

“Shit, ‘toya.”

“I know.” 

He sounds _needy,_ and he hates it. Of all the shit Motoya made him do in bed, this is probably the most humiliating one. Making him listen to their friends having sex while keeping him still- and now he’s typing something on his phone, completely ignoring his weak attempt at getting some _pleasure-_ fuck. 

In another wild impulsive decision, Rin finally decides he’s had enough and starts to move, slow and deep, enjoying the drag of his lover's dick inside him- and Motoya lets him, his hand even guiding him back down; 

“Moto- _yeah- fuck- nnngh.”_

“As long as you go slow, you can keep going.”

Suddenly, he wonders if staying still wouldn’t be easier; maybe getting nothing is easier than not getting enough. He moans when the hand on his hip makes him slow down, bites his lip when he hears the headboard on the adjacent room slamming against the wall;

But when he stops moving, even for a few seconds only, Motoya keep fucking him anyway, rolling his hips, giving little thrusts, just enough to keep his mind high.

\- ( ❆ ) - 

He doesn't know for how long he just stays here, hips barely moving- for a moment he's just floating inside his own head, movements slow and regular, just enough to keep him hard but not enough to actually bring him closer to the edge. 

It's comfortable, just feeling Motoya's dick inside him, keeping it warm while he does something else. He feels weirdly useful, it's almost gratifying. 

But then, Akinori starts to moan again, to talk again, only Shinsuke's name, and a plethora of _pleases_ but it's enough to slowly make his brain come back to itself; he's not floating anymore, and each movement is now making him moan a bit louder, taking him closer to the edge- _please._

It feels like an entire hour before Kimimaro finally stops his deadly attack against Gaara; putting an end to the battle. 

He’s not sure Motoya is really paying attention anymore, because he’s softly panting in his ear, his hips meeting his own small movements. It doesn’t matter how hard they both tried to resist each other, they still ended up fucking in more ways than not. Not as fast and _brutal_ as usual, but still, they’re both far from being immobile. 

And when the ending starts playing, it doesn’t even have the time to go further than the few first notes, because Motoya hits the power button and groans. 

“I hate this battle now.”

“Fuck me,” is the only thing Rin manages to say, making his lover sneer.

And fuck him, Motoya sure does, because in five seconds, Rin finds his face being pushed down on the pillows, and his now empty ass raised up in the air. 

The next moment, he can feel his lover’s dick slipping right back inside him- _and it’s rough._ It’s rough, and it slides in, in one unique thrust, and his brain barely has the time to register what’s happening, to take in the sensation; Motoya is already withdrawing before slamming back inside. 

_“Shit, Rin-”_

He can’t come up with an answer, can’t find the words, only enjoying the feeling he’s been craving for what feels like hours. His cheek is rubbing against the fabric of the pillow from how hard Motoya’s thrusting in; when his brain starts finally working again, barely but surely, he tries to move his hips, tries to make him brush against his prostate harder, arching his back to provoke him- 

_“‘toya-”_

_(“Let me come- please let me come- let me come- Shin- Shin- please, oh god- shit-”)_

_Fuck._

His dick twitches weakly, and he can feel himself getting closer and closer to the edge, following right after Akinori. 

“Fuck- You’re going to come just from listening to him,” Motoya whispers against his ear, caging him against his chest when he falls ahead, his mouth leaving wet kisses on his shoulders.

“It’s- ‘t’s not him-” Rin manages to answer between two choked moans.

“Oh, is it _them,_ then? Shinsuke?” _fuck._ “I understand, he’s quite-”

“It’s not them, ‘Toya, _fuck- harder, god- I’m almost-”_

“What is it then?”

“‘Toya,” Rin moans; his fingers are tightening around the sheets, his teeth almost ripping the fabric around the pillows from how hard he’s biting into it, trying not to make _too_ much noise. His hips are moving, trying to meet with his lover’s erratic thrusts, to take him deeper; 

But Motoya is now keeping him still, slowing down himself, whispering in his ear, almost threatening.

_“What. Is. It?”_

“You- _fuck-”_

It’s impossible for him to lie, to come up with an excuse- his brain is too exhausted, his body too tense, he just needs it: the release; he tries to move his hips but Motoya stops him once again, his hands firm on his hips. 

And so, he continues.

“It’s you- the way you- you look at me when I just- even when I just look at someone else; it drives me crazy-”

_“Oh yeah?”_

This time Motoya grips his hips and pulls him closer, fucking deeper inside him, slow, agonizingly slow. But he was already so close it probably won’t take a lot more than just a few thrusts to make him come;

“You- It- It makes me feel like I’m- like I’m-”

“Like you’re what?”

“Like I belong- like I’m yours and you- _fuck- harder, please.”_

He doesn’t go harder. 

In fact, Motoya completely leaves, moving from above him, his dick slipping out and Rin cries out. 

_(“Shin- please- please- oh fuck- nnngh”)_

But Rin’s quickly moved, body pliant under Motoya’s touch. He’s thrown on his back against the pillows, and doesn’t have the time to register what’s happening because his lover’s already inside him again, facing him this time, with a stupid smile on his face. 

He leaves kisses on his throat, marking his skin- it’s the first time he leaves bruises so high on his body, in a place so _visible._

It only brings him closer to the edge. 

“You’re mine.”

_“Fuck yes, I am.”_

Motoya starts slamming into him harder, bending his left leg until it rests on his shoulder, sliding deep inside him, touching his prostate each time he withdraws and goes back in- it’s driving him crazy, and Akinori’s still moaning like he’s being fucked for the first time in weeks; his brain feels fuzzy. 

He whines pathetically, biting his bottom lip to muffle his scream since he doesn’t have a pillow to silence himself anymore- but Motoya’s thumb presses against his lip, pressing it, pushing inside- and his lips open, letting him slide his finger against his tongue

_“FUCK! nnngh-”_

“Let them hear.”

_“Mo‘oya-”_

“Louder.”

“‘Fuck- _fuckfuckfuck-”_

His hips are meeting Motoya’s thrusts now, and he’s not far from actually crying- he can feel it rising inside him. The fingers leave his mouth and he cries out.

_(“I’m gonna come- Shin- shin- I’m going to-” he wails, loud and whiny-)_

They’re friends, have been for years now, all of them. 

But right now, it doesn’t matter; it doesn’t even register inside his brain. Or maybe it makes it even hotter, he doesn’t even know, definitely doesn’t care. 

All that matters right now are the moans on the other side of the wall, and his own desire to be just as loud as them- to let them know he's getting fucked too, and that he's falling apart too. 

“‘toya you feel so- _fuck so good-”_

“Oh yeah?” he smirks, obviously understanding what’s going on inside his brain.

His teeth sink into his lover’s shoulder when he starts fucking him harder, in a slow, controlled pace, but Motoya quickly slams him back on the mattress. 

“Don’t try to hide.”

If Akinori is shameless, Rintaro isn’t much better, because he doesn’t even try to muffle his voice anymore, following Motoya’s orders when he starts moaning freely for everyone in the house to hear.

_(“I’m coming- fuck Aki. You were so good- such a good boy”_

_“Shin-”_

_“Fuck-”)_

The feeling of his cock pressed against Motoya’s stomach, the feeling of being so _full,_ of his lover’s dick sliding inside, before withdrawing, then slamming back in, dragging against his prostate- he feels his body starting to shake, and there’s nothing he can do against it. He’s falling, and he knows that if Motoya tells him to wait, if he tells him he can’t come- he knows he won’t be able to hold it back. 

So, he uses the last remaining strength he can gather to squeeze his hole as tight as he can around his cock, moaning when he feels Motoya’s dick slide in, pushing against his inner walls.

“Bastard,” Motoya curses, a muffled whisper in his ear;

But his movements are harsher, quicker now. His hands push at Rin’s shoulders, pressing him against the mattress; he can’t hide his face, can’t muffle his voice- he can just take it, take the last thrusts he gives him.

“Rin- I- I- _fuck- I-”_

_I’m going to come,_

It says.

It means:

_I love you._

_“I know,”_ he whispers, _“me too.”_

_I’m coming too, wait for me-_

It says.

It means:

_I love you too._

_They haven’t used a condom, it’s going to be a pain,_ is the last thing he can think about when he feels Motoya’s cock twitching inside him, and his fingers tighten around his shoulder. Rin isn’t far behind, head thrown back, throat exposed as he moans when he finally spills all over his stomach, eyes closed and fingers tight around the bedsheets. 

\- ( ❆ ) - 

It’s far from being the first time they did this; it feels almost familiar, the way he lands on the empty space next to him before Motoya comes to snuggle by his side, his face pressed against his rib.

“Now let me sleep before they start again,” Motoya mumbles, but it’s already too late. 

_(“FUCK- SHIN, ohgod- please-”)_

“For fuck's sake Shinsuke, let him come, or let him sleep,” Rintaro groans, pinching the bridge of his nose in an exasperated gesture. 

Motoya laughs quietly, wrapping his arms around Rintaro’s slender body, sliding a leg across his waist, hanging around him like a happy koala. 

They stay awake for another hour before they manage to finally fall asleep, the bed on the other side of the wall still creaking; but Kita must have gagged his boyfriend or something because Konoha has finally gone silent.

\- ( ❆ ) - 

**MOTOYA -**

_He’s in the middle of the EJP training volleyball court, laying on his back, eyes on the ceiling, not even blinded by the light, when he notices Rintaro sitting on his lap, mouth leaving wet kisses on his neck._

_“Fuck- Rin, they’re going to arrive-”_

_He doesn’t know how he knows this, but he does: practice is about to start, and it’s a miracle Washio isn’t here yet-_

_“I don’t care, let them hear, see, we’ve heard them enough yesterday-”_

_He doesn’t know why, but he knows who_ they _are, what happened yesterday. Akinori and Shinsuke are, somehow, members of EJP now, and they’re about to arrive-_

_“Fuck ‘toya!”_

_Oh, he’s riding him now, and the warm pressure around him feels real- so real- and the tension is building and building, he just needs a bit more-_

“Fuck,” Motoya moans silently, still half asleep when he finally starts realizing where he is- it’s warm, too warm to be comfortable even, and he’s eating hair, his face pressed against Rin’s neck- well it’s not the only thing that’s pressed against Rin at the moment. 

He takes a deep breath, finally emerging from his sleep, and he tries to swiftly detangle his limbs from the man laying next to him, mostly to avoid the awkward moment when Rintaro will _wake up_ and feel his hard dick against his ass; but as soon as he starts moving away, he feels a hand against his thigh, keeping him in place.

“Mmmh, stay here,” Rin mumbles in his pillow, and Motoya lets his limbs go limp, his dick lazily resting against the small of Rintaro’s back.

“Rin-”

“You were less hesitant a few minutes ago, saying my name _like that._ You know it’s Sunday, most of us would like to actually sleep and not be woken up by someone moaning their name.”

“Sorry.”

Rin doesn’t gratify him with an answer, instead choosing to show his appreciation for the situation by moving slightly, until Motoya’s dick is resting between his ass cheeks- and he starts arching his back, until he can feel his still pliant hole against the tip of his dick- _oh,_ Motoya is very _awake_ now.

“Fuck-”

Realistically, it’s pretty uncomfortable- the friction is only light, the hairs Rin hasn’t waxed away are getting in the way, it’s not wet anymore- _and yet,_ it still drives him crazy all the same. It’s probably the Sunday morning vibe, the warmth of Rin’s neck, the lingering smell of yesterday’s sex. 

It’s not necessarily hot, or arousing, but it feels familiar, _comfortable._

And when Rin’s hand slides behind him to take Motoya’s dick in his fist, it becomes hot too, all of a sudden. He muffles his moan on Rin’s shoulder, leaving a dark mark on the fair skin- it’s too early to wake their neighbours up, despite their own lack of consideration during the previous night. 

They’ve been doing this for months, almost every week; so Rin’s fingers are _experts_ at getting Motoya off. In a few seconds, he’s close to coming, silencing his moans against Rin’s skin, his arms now wrapped around his lover’s waist to keep him close. He could touch him too- could bring him to completion in a few flicks of his wrist- and so, he _does._

“Fuck- Rin-”

He moves his fist up and down, trying to focus on his own movements, but his hips are starting to move on their own accord, chasing-

_“Shit- shitshit-”_

Rin stiffens against him and his entire body shakes as he comes on the sheets; and two pumps later, he’s coming too, right on his lover’s back- _fuck-_

“Oi fuckers, breakfast is served,” Atsumu’s voice comes from behind the door. 

“Do you think he heard?”

Rin shrugs (of course he did).

\- ( ❆ ) - 

“So,” Akinori starts once he sits next to him at the breakfast table.

“Yes?” Motoya asks with a small smile, spreading butter on his bread.

“So- _this_ happened.”

“It did.”

“It sure as hell did,” Keiji groans, massaging his temples with his fingers.

Akinori glares at his best friend, Kiyoomi groans, the twins look pointedly at their food. 

Akinori shrugs and bites into his tartine. Motoya happily does the same, looking straight at an emotionless Rin who’s sitting across the table, looking at his phone.

“It’s a sunny day today,” Kita remarks when he comes from upstairs, sitting next to Atsumu. He takes the bottle of orange juice, ignoring the way both Rin and Akinori look at him. “Who wants to go for a walk in the valley?”

They all nod, despite all of them having deep dark circles under their eyes.

\- ( ❆ ) - 

[ the_sunarin posted a photo ]

\- ( ❆ ) - 

Rin and Motoya are standing on the balcony; the others are too busy cooking or playing Mario Kart, or licking SWITCH game cards with their tongues (they probably all indirectly kissed each other by then). They’re alone for the first time this day. 

“You know, I wouldn’t let anyone kiss you seriously, right?” Motoya casually asks, eyes wandering on the snowy mountain tops in front of them. 

“Why?” Rin teases with a small smile, mirroring Motoya’s own question from the previous day.

He’s teasing, but there’s hidden fear in his tone, worry that he might say it’s just for fun- that he doesn’t mean it. 

And for once, he crosses the line, with a hesitating foot, head held up high but shoulders low.

“Because you like me?” Rin adds, almost joking, almost mocking- _because you like me; as if this would ever be possible._

But Motoya is waiting on the other side of that same line, a smile just as teasing as always on his lips, but not less genuine. 

“Yeah, probably,” he shrugs.

“You- _good,_ because I probably like you too.” 

The sun is setting and the sky is full of pinks and purples. He wraps his arm around Rintaro’s shoulders before kissing his temple in an affectionate gesture. It’s not the first time he does it; but it’s the first time he acknowledges the meaning behind it.

\- ( ❆ ) - 

[ joelsdad posted a photo ]

\- ( ❆ ) - 

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/yootasuke).
> 
> -the dynamics between kitakono are the same as in ad astra per espera, their history is pretty much the same.  
> -sakuatsu are playing overcooked 2 on switch  
> -the naruto episodes they are watching are episodes 125-126 from not-shippuden-naruto.
> 
> elle, when you told me about sunakomo i started looking into it, didn’t really read a lot of fics but STILL, i decided i would still write about them for you… and add some kitakono on the side wink wink.  
> i had so much fun writing this and drawing for this, im glad you gave me the opportunity to explore new territories!!!  
> now i can finally go back to screaming at you in your dms without being scared of spoiling everything, YAY.  
> ily a lot, stay safe, be swag french!she <3
> 
> also, switch-game cards taste AWFUL, don't try this at home.


End file.
